The Heart of Everything
by December's Eve
Summary: Violette did not have much of a choice when she accepted the role of princess elect. Everyone, including herself, knows that she only holds this role because of corruption within the very walls of the castle that she now resides. Will she rise up to be a true leader, or will she crumble under the weight of her crown? (Rating may go up as story progresses.)
1. Prologue

It has been a long standing joke to those closest to me that I am only a noblewoman in title; a statement that might raise eyebrows for those who aren't in the know, but one that has personally brought me endless amusement. That isn't to say that I hold any issue with my title, nor do I hold myself superior to other women born of a similar rank. Half joke, half self deprecating statement, I can honestly say that I am only a lady in name. As a matter of fact, I take a great deal of joy in many of the pastimes befitting of my station: drawing, painting, embroidery, singing, dancing, and playing the pianoforte for example, though I am sorry to say that I am mediocre in all except the first.

Indeed, rather than improving on the skills that might make me more attractive to any potential suitors, I've spent more of my time romping about outdoors either exploring the woods that belonged to the family estate on horseback or laying about in the fields, identifying the various flora and fauna with the aid of my trusty field guides. Father lovingly despaired of me, citing my neglect towards my accomplishments on my lack of a mother figure but made no real push to make me polish myself like a parent of a different family might.

Because this benefited me, me having no real interest in marriage (with the eligible men I had met thus far anyway), I made no complaints regarding the matter. Besides, I liked to think that he enjoyed my company far too much to really want to marry me off so quickly.

Perhaps I might have felt differently had Mama still been alive. Although I was not her (or Father's) daughter by birth, we were inseparable in my early years of life. I recall very little of life at the orphanage that they adopted me from and perhaps that is for the best, for what I can recall is a vague but constant feeling of discontent and fear.

One of the happiest days of my life was the day that Mama arrived at the orphanage, smiling and dressed in the prettiest gown of robin's egg blue asking me to be a member of her family.

It was her warmth, compassion, and joie de vivre that made it so easy for my six-year-old self to integrate into the family so easily and for the others to accept me with such ease. For seven blissful years Mama was the apple of my eye and wherever she went, I went as well.

Scarlet fever claimed her life just on the eve of my thirteenth birthday. She had been teaching me the ways of navigating Wysterian society as a young lady just before she fell ill. Her death left the entire family devastated, Father in particular. He said that he would rather die a widowed man than marry another woman, so aside from the heroines of my beloved novels I never had another female role model.

There were times when I wondered whether I disappointed Mama's memory, being out to society for three seasons and failing to secure a suitor consequently due to my indifference in those three seasons, but I made quick work to chase those thoughts away as soon as they arrived. She was gone and as much as I missed her, making myself miserable would not bring her back. Besides, at twenty-one years of age I did not count as a spinster just yet, although I knew that my lack of a husband was sometimes a topic of discuss amongst Father's circle of friends.

"If worst comes to worst," I told him one time over dinner, "I shall live with René"-my brother who was older than me by four years-"and take residence on his property as an ornamental hermit. They are still very fashionable in some parts of the country, you know."

Father simply indulged me by replying, "Very sensible of you to plan so far ahead in your future" with only the slightest roll of his eyes.

Such was the way of life at Lavelle Manor.

There was a time many years ago when our halls buzzed with activity, and an invitation to our ballroom was the must have accessory for those in the upper class circles at any given season. Although I was too young to properly appreciate the splendor, some of my happiest memories were spent in the parlor next door dancing with René and some of the other children deemed not mature enough to join in on the festivities.

Nowadays the Renaud family enjoyed a much quieter life. Aside from our pets and the live-in staff, Father and I are Lavelle Manor's only occupants and thus we usually saw each other in the evenings and during mealtimes. (When he wasn't called in to work late at the castle, which, as you can imagine, happened quite often.) René and I remained as close as we were in our younger years, though he was often away to this nation or that nation negotiating trade deals for the coffee company that our family owned as a means of extra income.

We were happy enough together, Father, René, and I, despite the generally solitary nature of our lives.

Or, at least, I thought that we were.

Perhaps I had too far caught up in my own world to notice that changes that were starting to happen in my very own home. It was early summer, just before the most active part of the social season began and Father was working longer and longer hours at the castle, well into the night. I'd attended very few balls thus far, what with René taking residence in Laurelia therefore being unavailable to chaperone me as much as often as he might have otherwise. As much as I missed the dancing at these events, I missed my dear brother even more; though I doubted that we would see each other soon thanks to the spectacular argument that erupted between Father and him late one night. And, try as I might, I was unsuccessful in my attempts to find out the true nature of said argument.

I had just caught the tail end of it, hearing René call Father an "overbearing ogre" before calling for a carriage.

"Write to me if anything happens," he said when he caught sight of me hanging near the office. "I can no longer bear to live here, so I am sorry to say that I'm leaving you for now. If anything happens, I want you to write to me and I will have someone send for you immediately."

He stormed out of the house straight after that, leaving me no time to ask any questions.

While that gave me some idea that things we were not as content I previously thought (for I would be either blind or stupid to think otherwise), I had no idea that that argument was a sign that life as I knew it would change as well.


	2. Chapter 1

It was midmorning, just a few hours after breakfast and I was in the back gardens with Samuel, our groundskeeper, assisting him with watering the flowers and collecting trimmings for some centerpieces when the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted my task. Thinking that it was another member of the household staff, perhaps Marie with a list of groceries that needed my approval I did not look up just yet.

"I will be but a moment. These irises need my attention."

"Marie did say you were back here," said a masculine voice that nearly made me drop my clippers. "But she said nothing about you playing in the dirt. Again."

It was Father, his arms behind his back, watching me with an unusually stern expression on his face. I rose up from my kneeling position and dusted off whatever dirt I could from the front of my dress, hoping that it would ease the frown on his face a little. Technically I was not allowed to assist anyone whose job it was to maintain the upkeep of the house, but I often did as I pleased anyhow. Watering the flowers and picking the dead leaves off the plants were among the simpler tasks in the garden anyhow, so I never saw the reason for all of the fuss.

"You're here early today," I said in what I hoped was a light, teasing sort of voice. "Is everything quite alright? Did some miracle occur that made the palace bureaucrats come to make an easy decision for once."

"Now we both know that _that_ is never going to happen, even in the event of a miracle." His gaze lingered on the hem of my dress, which had dragged in the mud. Though he made no mention of it, I could feel his further disapproval radiating off of his very being. After several long moments of silence he said this: "Come now, Violette. Gather your basket and meet me in your office. There is something that I have been meaning to discuss with you."

He turned on his heel and left abruptly after that.

Though he clearly expected for me to follow him, I hesitated in taking a step. "Do you have any idea what this might be about?"

I asked Samuel, who was hunched over a few feet away, pretending not to listen. Gossip, as it was in any household, ran rampant amongst the serving staff so I hoped that he could arm me with some insight on the cause behind Father's mood.

"I'm afraid you're just as flustered as I am, Miss," said Samuel with a furrowed brow. I must have visibly deflated then because he offered me a sympathetic smile next. "Whatever it is, I'm sure that it's nothing for you to fret over too much. Chances are it's something to do with that brother of yours." He placed a few long stemmed roses in my basket, peach in color. My favorite. "Besides, you know how your father loves a good, dramatic build up."

"Thank you." For the flowers and the comfort. I accepted my basket with a curtsy, which caused our beloved groundskeeper to blush but there was no other way I could possibly thank him on short notice. "I will be back soon. When I do, I'll be sure to make a centerpiece special for your wife."

"I'm looking forward to it, Miss."

Had I known then that that was a promise that I would not be able to keep, I would have bade Samuel a proper goodbye.

Instead I picked up my skirts (careful not to track mud in and make more trouble for those who had to clean up after me), waved in his direction, and quickly made my way to Father's study. Since he had requested my presence to begin with, I did not bother knocking at the door.

"Make sure you close the door behind you."

He stood facing towards a window, his fingers tapping anxiously at the surface of his desk. I did as he asked and the air grew thicker somehow because of it. I had rather hoped that now that we were in private that his countenance might lighten up a bit but that seemed not to be the case today. He appeared to be in a world entirely of his own and I had to clear my throat several times before he finally turned to face me with that awful, serious look wearing deep into his features.

"Take a spin, child. I would like a proper look at you."

I furrowed my brows at being called 'child' but obliged, wondering where he could possibly going with all of this.

"Slower," he commanded, already sounding weary with me. "Before you make us both dizzy."

An apology left my lips as I made a conscious effort to slow my steps and appear little more graceful. Something about his stare, nervous as it made me, prompted me to lift my head on straight as well. Somehow I got the feeling that it would not do to slouch at a time such as this.

"Good, good," he said, finally leaving his spot by the window to circle around me slowly. "You have become rather pretty over the years, haven't you?"

"Father?"

He went on as if he hadn't heard me. "Don't stop now, Violette. I have not finished with you. Let's see...good figure, although the posture could stand to see some improvement. Bright eyes, smile for me now-straight teeth. Clear complexion, though it has seen more sun than what is preferable. Most gentlemen prefer their women to have a porcelain complexion nowadays."

"Father!"

"It can't be helped now. Besides your darkness gives an exotic look to you and _that_ can be used to our advantage." I frowned at that, dearly wishing this assessment were over. He took a step closer to me, lifting a piece of stray twig that had somehow found its way into my curls. "And very pretty hair. When it isn't flying about, making you resemble some sort of wild woman that is. Overall though, I must say that I am quite pleased with the young lady that stands before me today."

'Overall quite pleased with the lady that stood before him.' I could no longer contain myself. "Father, what on earth are you talking about?" I laughed. "All this talk about my teeth and my hair. Exotic, am I? You're making me feel as though I'm some sort of potted plant or a show horse that is about to be auctioned away. You see me nearly every day. There is no need for all of this."

"My daughter, there is quite a difference between seeing someone and looking at them. Today I want some rather important people to look at you." It was then that he procured a large set of packages from underneath his desk. "You see, today is a rather important day to me. To you, I mean. Well...to the Renaud family, really."

He handed the first package to me, which was beautifully wrapped in black and brown damask paper, stamped with some sort of floral emblem that I did not recognize. "Go on then, open it. I think that it will be to your liking."

No further prompting was needed. I tore open at the package and the contents that were inside made me gasp: a brand new day dress, turquoise striped silk taffeta by the looks of it, the square neckline and three-quarter length sleeves were trimmed with a pretty gold lace. I couldn't help putting it against my body, unable to keep the smile from splitting across my face as I further inspected some of the smaller details that I had missed at first glance.

"Thank you!" I said, earning the first approving chuckle from father that I had heard that day. "Truly. I have no words. I-I wonder where I might wear this!"

Yes, I admit that I am no more distracted by a lovely new garment than a magpie is by a shiny trinket found in the grass. I have my failings and vanity, occasionally, is among them.

"At the palace," replied Father, handing me a matching set of gold gloves from the other package. "Today."

"Today?"

"Is there any echo in this room that I'm unaware of?" Most of the laughter and good humor had returned to his bright blue eyes, making him look several years younger. "Goodness, you really _do_ have your head in the clouds don't you?"

"Or perhaps," I said, curiosity overriding any annoyance I might have felt towards the last comment he made, "you haven't been home nearly enough, so I have no way at guessing what the occasion that you speak of might be at all."

"I suppose you're right, Violette," he conceded. "I haven't been home nearly as often as I ought to, have I?" He let out a sigh now, which was a foreboding sign if I ever did see one. "You are aware that the King is ill, aren't you?"

I swallowed at this. "I...might have heard some rumors of this, yes."

"The truth of the matter is that His Majesty is fading fast and it is only a matter of time..." He did not need to finish that sentence, nor did I think that he had the strength to do so. Although he had retired from his position many, many years ago, Father still considered the King a dear friend of his. He was his advisor, after all. I could only imagine how heavily this impending loss must have weighed at his mind.

I set the gown and all of the other trinkets aside for now so that I could place my hand over his own. No wonder Father constantly came home so late nowadays.

"Thank you," he said. And, for the first time, I suddenly came to realize just how grey his formerly chestnut hair had become in the last several months. Maybe I really wasn't paying attention. Before I could counsel him with any further gestures of comfort, however, he stood up tall once again and resumed that businesslike manner that made me so uncomfortable just moments before. "Now, I'm not sure if you can recall but Wysteria has a rather interesting way of continuing the royal bloodline should the King fall ill before he is able to produce an heir. Do you remember anything in your lessons about the Princess System?"

It took me a few moments to sort through all of the memories of etiquette, languages, and local history before I recalled on what little my governess had told me about the Princess System. "Isn't that a very unstable way of going about things?" I remembered saying something along those lines even back then. "To just let anyone take control of the throne...that could be dangerous."

"It's the only option that we have to fall back on, it seems. The King has no other living relations, so unless we wish to render ourselves leaderless and therefore vulnerable to attack from Protea or God forbid, _Stein_ , it is that unstable system that we are forced to work with."

There was no turning away from him as he told me all of this, speaking with such authority and finality that it was only too obvious what he wanted from me now.

And yet I couldn't keep my voice from breaking as I considered this very burden that he had suddenly thrust upon my shoulders. "You mean to tell me that I am to go to the castle to try and vy for the role of the princess, and you are only telling me today?"

"Really now, Violette. It doesn't do you well at all to get so emotional." Clearly this was not the reaction that Father had anticipated at all, or perhaps it seemed that way because he pinched the bridge of his nose. "After all of the disappointment that I had to suffer through with your brother recently, I thought that perhaps you would know better and be more cooperative."

The sudden reminder of René's absence stung and I shrunk back because of it.

"Even today you won't tell me why he left. You're always so cross with me when you ask." I did not need to look up to know how his eyes flashed at me mentioning such a sensitive subject rather than complying with him right away. "I will go if you tell me what the subject of what the argument was."

There was quiet for a few long moments. Perhaps I had gone too far, pushing him for the truth in such a blunt manner; but I deserved to know. Then, to my surprise, Father did not respond by yelling back at my sudden outburst or chiding me for my impertinence, but by laughing instead.

"Are you still on about that tired old subject?" he asked, and when I glanced back up at him, he was smiling but there was a tightness to the lines around his eyes. "Violette, I have told you once and I will tell you again that the reason behind my argument with René is neither here nor there. What matters is that I was right and he will see the error of his ways soon enough and come back."

I opened my mouth to speak again but he started before I could get a word in, "Besides, I thought that all girls wanted to be princesses."

"There is a difference between dreaming of being a princess and living out the reality as one." Having lived in such close proximity to the castle had long dispelled any romantic notions of that and not even the most fantastical of my novels could distract me from that.

"This is very true and the fact that you know the difference gives you all the more advantage over those other girls."

This did not make me feel any better. The fact remained that I did not _want_ to be princess and I certainly did not appreciate being ordered about, especially not concerning such a potentially life changing order.

It was my lack of a response that finally made Father do away with the flattering, sugary sweet tone to his voice. "For goodness sake Violette, you really are a horrible brat sometimes. We may not share the same blood but I have always considered you a member of the Renaud family. There are certain duties that we, as nobles, and as Renauds must attend to. I have been more than lenient when it comes to the matters of the company that you keep, befriending and mingling with the serving staff. And I have turned a blind eye to your failure to secure a husband thus far. After all that I have done for you, I am not asking you for very much at all. Am I?"

At first I wasn't sure that I had heard him quite right.

There were times, yes, when I was made conscious of my status as an 'other' in this family though I, too, bore the name Renaud and was his legitimate child in the eyes of the law. The whispers that followed me in my younger years had all but disappeared, except in times when I made a spectacular fool of myself and there was little else to gossip about. That was other people though; never Mama, when she was alive, and certainly not René. Father...that sort of talk only passed his lips when I had worked his temper beyond reason.

"I don't mean to be such a disappointment to you," is what I managed to say when I did find my voice. "I know that there are certain expectations when it comes to upholding our family name but, Father, I did not know that you held my lack of a husband against me. I...I am simply not ready yet."

Before I was even aware of the tears that now tracked down my cheeks, I was suddenly wrapped up in a pair of arms. Unsure of whether to accept the comfort or not, I simply stood stiff in Father's embrace.

"Oh, my darling girl." He brushed some hair that had fallen in my eyes now. "Now, now don't cry. We need to be at the palace in less than an hour and it simply will not do for you to show up with red eyes. What are we to do with you?" Perhaps it was a bit disgraceful but I simply shrugged one shoulder above the other, unable to respond in any other way. "You are not a disappointment to me. Your father, you know he has a deplorable temper from time to time and I do apologize for making you cry but you must also know that you are unreasonably stubborn too."

"I suppose." It was the truth, so what else was there for me to say?

"And you are my favorite, obedient daughter at the end of the day," he continued, giving my arms a light squeeze. "I commend you for you at least trying to give a fighting effort-but save that for the bureaucrats when you are elected crown princess. Many of them seem good men, but many of them are selfish and have their own agenda."

While I knew that he wished to compliment me, his words left a rather hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. The argument was over now, so now I was to collect my new dress and matching gloves and have Marie assist in making me look presentable to the judges. Though I felt that this was a lost cause, I was far too drained to do anything other than promise Father my best before making a hasty exit out of his study. Perhaps after today was over we could start over and forget that this horrible morning had ever happened in the first place.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:** The Competition

* * *

It seemed as though every girl in the country had shown up to the palace today in hopes of securing her spot in the competition today, which turned out to be a blessing and a curse.

On one hand, the vast number of girls was a blessing because it made it all the easier for me to fade away into the background. In a sea of pretty faces and gorgeous gowns in every color of the rainbow, I was but a mousey little speck of blue, very easily missed due to the sheer number of people in the ballroom. The only time I was ever noticed or called upon at all was when it was my turn to present myself to the judges, which had only happened twice so far.

I was also given the rare chance to see many girls from different parts of the country, of all social classes due to the nature of the competition, and I very much enjoyed the rare chance of observing their dress, their manners, and listening to their stories from their regions—at a distance, of course. Somehow the only ladies who I felt comfortable enough to call my friends were mysteriously absent from today's festivities, either due to prior engagements or a genuine lack of interest. I envied them.

On the other hand, the fact that I had no one that I knew or liked well enough to want to group up with only worsened the foul mood that I was already in. When I tired of observing and eavesdropping on some of the more fascinating ladies, I retreated to the furthest corner of the room that I could get away with, but because the room was so crowded even there I found myself in the company of strangers.

This only left me with the company of my own thoughts, which was _very_ much a curse as I had to measure up my own talents against the talents of many others. Father sat near the panel of judges and the look on his face when I made several missteps playing the pianoforte was far from encouraging, especially since the lady before me sung an aria from a Mozart concerto with all of the grace and elegance of an opera singer. The polite applause that followed my performance was especially humiliating and I stumbled through my bows, knowing that what I deserved was steely silence instead,

Mercifully the talent portion of the competition carried on after that, and I was soon forgotten thanks to a lovely blonde who played brought out her harp.

I had every intention of returning to my secluded (but not truly secluded) corner behind a potted plant when someone grasped my shoulder, forcing me to turn and look up at them.

"Would you like to tell me what that was all about?" It was Father, who, by any definition of the word, wore a perfect mask of sympathy but the irritated undertone of his voice did not match the expression on his face at all. "You do realize that that performance reflected poorly on us both, don't you?"

My cheeks burned at this, a spectacular feat given the brownness of my skin. "I am doing the best that I can." Not wanting any of the curious onlookers to have a clue to the nature of our conversation, I spoke in a whisper. "Especially given that I had such short notice, I really am a bit harried."

Except for a faint furrow between his brow, his expression did not falter at all. "It shows. So you will have to do better than your best, because as it is you have all the charisma of a wet mop."

Thank the stars above, someone else cut in before I even had to come up with a way to try and defend myself from that last comment. One of the bureaucrats who sat at the table with the other judges, a handsome gentleman with silvery-white hair and ruby eyes, stood between us, a genial smile playing at his lips. He looked to be my age, two or three years older perhaps.

"Lord Renaud," said the young man, first inclining his head towards Father then towards me, "Mademoiselle Renaud." He held a tall, crystal flute of cool, sparkling water which he handed to me. "I hope that I'm not being terribly rude by interrupting what I am sure is a wonderfully encouraging speech, but I simply wanted to greet your lovely daughter in person."

For whatever reason, the mere presence of this young bureaucrat seemed to cause a hard line to form in Father's jaw that disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. He seemed to hesitate to find words, which I found bizarrely amusing before he finally said this, "No offense taken, Sir Crawford. I was simply telling Violette to breathe. She is no stranger to the palace after all."

Had we met before? Sir Crawford's gaze flickered briefly towards me as I looked him a bit closer trying to figure this out. When he caught my eye, his winked in my direction.

"Remembering to breathe is important especially when you're nervous," he agreed. "Standing up with your back straight helps too, My Lady. Remember: confidence is key in this competition."

Realizing now that I was, once again, slouching a little in my stance, I corrected myself immediately. I raised the glass that he gave me as a silent gesture of my thanks, not only for the water that eased my nerves with its icy comfort, but for also rescuing me for what I knew would become a stern lecture on my many glaring imperfections. "I hope that this won't be the last time that we meet in these halls," I told him with sincerity, to which he merely chuckled and brought my free hand to his lips.

"And deny myself the opportunity to converse with such a lovely young lady? Never." He kissed the top of my knuckles in such a gallant way that I exhaled a nervous, but delighted puff of laughter. "I will keep an eye out for you on the dance floor for the next portion of the competition, so please, save one for me."

"You shall be my first and only partner, I'm sure, Sir Crawford." Given his friendly attitude, I found it in myself to jest, even a little bit. (Though I was certain there would be some truth to these words.)

"Sir? There's hardly a need for that sort of formality. Call me Leo." He shook his head at my answer, then clapped a hand on my Father's shoulder. "Arnauld, shall we then? Some of the other men at the panel had something that they wished to speak to you about."

Father, though somewhat subdued by our exchange, cast an apprehensive glance in my direction. "Err, will you be alright by yourself then, Violette?" I nodded, giving him such a practiced smile that I fooled even myself now. I was certain that he had much more that he wanted to say but held back in the company of one of his own. "Remember what I told you before then."

"Walk tall and with grace," Sir Crawford said rather easily. He was already steering Father back towards the table that was far across the white and gold marbled ballroom, the crowd parting for them as they moved along.

When they were halfway across to their destination, he turned his head back towards me and called out, "Don't forget: You're saving a dance just for me!"

Yet again I found that all eyes were on me, except this time the surrounding ladies regarded me with envy rather than undisguised pity. All of the confidence that Sir Crawford had instilled in me just moments before vanished in a matter of seconds. "He wants to dance with _her_?" someone said, not too far off from where I stood.

Sir Crawford smiled apologetically for this, but the damage was already done.

Well, I supposed that I was rather foolish for hoping that I could find an ally in this room to begin with.

* * *

My luck, I am most regretful to say, did not improve much from that point on.

Though I somehow made it unscathed through the first few rounds of eliminations (likely due to the fact that Father held sway with the judges), it was pitifully clear that I was not the most qualified lady for the job by far. When they judged us for our beauty—the very idea of which I bristled at; a princess did not have to rule a nation capably—I had a difficult time maintaining eye contact with the judges and was told constantly that I needed to appear more at ease. "You're not being put to the hanging block," one of them told me, though when we took a brief lunch break that did seem the more appealing choice.

We were ushered towards the banquet hall adjoining the ballroom where a beautiful feast awaited us beneath a large, glittering chandelier: chicorée-frisée with poached black truffles drizzled in walnut oil and wine vinegar; cold, creamy tomato and tarragon soup topped with basil and crumbled goat cheese; coq au vin so tender that the chicken melted in my mouth when I sampled some, the list went on.

Even there I saw how the Chamberlain Giles observed my manners closely, so I knew that we were being judged there as well.

His opinion of me at present must not have been very high, given how little I spoke to the people that surrounded me on either side.

At this point in time, several of the young ladies had broken off into smaller groups, a fact that made me look on at them with undisguised longing. Yes, we were all meant to be each other's competition, but for the moment all of those pretenses were cast aside for a good-spirited discussion about the latest fashions from the Lobelia region and what happened at the most recent ball. I wanted more than anything to join them but found that the moment I thought of something relevant to say, they had moved onto the next topic. How on Earth did anyone think of so many things to say to a person that they hardly knew, let alone befriend them?

"Is everything alright, My Lady?" asked Giles, making me choke down on my drink when I realized that his question was directed at me.

I smiled apologetically in his direction, very conscious of his frown, as I attempted to formulate an appropriate response. "Perfectly fine. Just a bit weary of small talk is all."

The response I received in turn was a mixed one: while some of the bureaucrats in my surrounding area seemed to find my answer amusing, as they chose to laugh at this, the ladies who had partaken in the conversation that I was not-so-secretly eavesdropping on dimmed down their volume a little. It was then that I realized how that comment might have been perceived.

"Not that I don't enjoy discussing matters of dress and decor as much as the next person—" I began, but Giles cut in, interrupting what might have resulted me in digging my grave that much deeper.

"But it does not seem to be a topic that holds much of your interest at present," he said. "In that case, would you like to give us your opinion on the current state of Wysteria's trading relations with Laurelia? We were having a light hearted debate on the matter, so I think it would be interesting to have a candidate's insight."

A chance to redeem myself.

I looked across the table where Leo was whispering in the ear of a serving boy with a youthful face and messy, light auburn hair, and then to Father, who sat at Leo's right. I smiled weakly in his direction and he put his goblet to his lips, inclining his head ever so slightly. That little bit of reassurance was all that I needed.

"Our relationship with Laurelia is good," I began, "but it could be better. I think that if we can convince Laurelia to secure us as their country's main export for coffee, that would highly boost both of our economies…"

Since this was a frequent subject of discussion back at the Lavelle Manor, it was easy enough to rehash all of the points that I had argued before. As we weighed out the pros and cons of the Wysterian coffee industry, I felt some but not all of my energy returning to me. Don't get me wrong, my hands still shook a little as I answered some of the questions that were directed my way and I was still very much aware of the undertones the ladies beside me used as we worked our way through dessert, but at least I sat with my back straight in my seat.

I could only hope that I could keep this up for the dance portion of the competition.

"Would you care for a refill?"

Looking up, I saw that it was the same serving boy that Leo had spoken to earlier. He smiled cheerfully and was making his rounds at the table with what appeared to be a cart that contained to be a steaming teapot and all of the proper fixings that went along with it.

"It's Darljeeing Black Tea, so it's not the Wysterian coffee that's been so highly praised but I promise it's been prepared very well," he continued, sounding so proud that I knew that he had to be the one who prepared it.

When he saw that he had my attention, he put his lips to my ear and whispered, "Sir Leo saw how nervous you seemed earlier and asked me to create a distraction if that was your wish. He says that you seemed to be on edge earlier, and he is sorry if he made a bigger mess of things. You seem to be doing just fine now but I can still make the distraction happen for you."

Intellectual debates I could handle, but seeing how everyone's attention was now starting to turn back to the dance floor, and how little I looked forward to that, the answer was simple: "Yes please."

His eyes twinkled in such a way that he seemed to say "Your wish is my command" as he brought the teapot up from the cart, before leaning over my shoulder and pouring half of the tea into my cup, and the other half into my lap.

The effect was simple but effective.

"I am so sorry!" he shouted as I drew back sharply in my chair, letting out a surprised explanation of my own. Several heads turned to see what all of the commotion was about, while I stood up trying to pathetically dab at the now ruined skirts of my dress with a wet cloth napkin.

"Not to worry," I said, scrubbing as hard as I possibly could at the stain, "these things do happen."

A sigh sounded across from me and I did not have to look up to see that it was Giles who did such a thing.

"You can scrub at that till your knuckles bleed from the effort, but without soap and the proper equipment I'm afraid that your efforts will be futile." I stilled my fingers at his words. "Nico, please escort Mademoiselle Renaud out to the hallways. Her dress will be taken to the laundry room. Thankfully there are several spare dresses in her size in one of the other rooms. Have one of the maids help her into a fresh one, and try to hurry it up so that she doesn't miss out on too much of the dancing."

In other words, he knew what we had just attempted to pull off. It both amazed and unnerved me at how calm he was as he spoke, and just how effortlessly chastised me.

Laundry was extremely hard work and this was an expensive dress.

Before I could dwell any further on my guilt, however, Nico took my hand and wordlessly led me out of the room.

"Giles can be scary, can't he?" Nico asked as soon as we were out of earshot from everyone.

Despite his words, he still wore the same bright, mischievous smile that he gave me when he first asked me if I wanted any tea. Seeing how he was able to smile in spite of (or perhaps because of) the fact that he would face disciplinary actions somehow eased my anxiety as well. I must have smiled back at him, because he leaned over, ruffled the top of my head a bit and said, "That's better!"

"I didn't get you in too much trouble, did I?" I asked, frowning as tried to smooth down my now fuzzy hair with my hands. "I've seen the way that some households treat their serving staff when something even more minor happens and I don't want to have you suffer too much because of my own inability to be around people for too long."

Much to my surprise, Nico simply laughed at this. "No, my Lady, the worst I will receive from Sir Giles is a very dull lecture on propriety and maybe something to do with not causing too much mischief around the castle."

I exhaled at this. "And something tells me that lecturing you on the last point will fall on deaf ears."

"Too right you are." Nico gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, an unusually bold gesture for someone who was essentially a stranger to me. "I will get going now, My Lady. I'm sure that there is someone nearby who knows where these spare gowns are." He let out another laugh, but it was so joyful that it would be more accurately described as a 'giggle'. "Though for your sake, I will make sure to take my time doing so."

He left me after this, giving me a moment to breathe in utter and complete solitude for the first time in hours.

It was painfully clear at this point how horribly I had failed to fulfil Father's request, a fact that I felt surprisingly ambivalent about. While I most definitely did not want to bear the title of "princess", nor did I think I was the most qualified candidate for the job by far, I did feel a little guilty knowing how much effort he must have gone through to bring me here. The dress that I consented to have ruined was not cheap by any means and I knew that this was only adding to the grey hairs on his head. On that same note, I wondered how much I ought to allow him to decide my fate.

As a woman I knew that I had a certain role to play in our society, a role that I had very much neglected up until now. What would happen to me now that I had sunk my spot in the competition? Would he now try to marry me off to some man of a high-ranking position because of it?

My first initial thought was "No", because my happiness was a great concern of Father's. He had never pushed me to do anything that I did not wish to do before. Why would he try and do such a thing now? Although, given his erratic behavior as of late…

"Mademoiselle?"

A soft, feminine voice cut through my thoughts and pulled me back out of my musings. When I turned around I saw a tall, blonde woman glaring at me beneath her wire-rimmed spectacles. Like Nico, she wore a plain brown uniform that distinguished herself as a part of the serving staff, except that the lower half of her uniform consisted of a longer skirt and there were a few floral-shaped pins attached to the straps of her apron. Although initially intimidating, I sensed that she glared at me not out of hostility but rather out of weariness. I _did_ pull this woman out of her daily duties to help me, after all.

"Forgive me," I said, inclining my head in the most respectful bow that I could muster. "I promise that I won't take up too much of your time, but I believe that Nico sent for you. I, erm, accidentally managed to get a big stain on the front of my dress and I need to borrow a new one for the next portion of the competition."

For a moment the young woman remained quiet, looking me up and down before the sharp look in her hazel eyes softened a little. "You're really out of your element, aren't you?"

"That seems to be the popular sentiment of the day," I said, allowing my shoulders to slump now. "I can't say that I disagree with them. The competition is...it's brutal. Frightening, really. Even with the people that are trying to help me."

"I'll say." A wry grin crossed her lips. "It certainly makes me glad that _I'm_ not the one who is vying for the role of the princess elect." She did a quick glance over at our surroundings before taking a closer step to me, her voice dropped an octave lower. "I'd likely be jailed if I were, either from murdering one of your competition with their constant squealing and rudeness to the staff, or more likely, one of the judges for enabling such behavior by allowing this competition to take place. The mess that we're going to clean up later…"

Never in my life had I heard anyone, man or woman, speak so openly in my life. And to make such a joke to my face! I had to laugh at how shocking of a statement that was, and I found that I instantly liked this maid. "If you are going to do such a thing, then I suggest that you focus on the judges. It's as you said: it is the bureaucrats who decided to hold this competition in the first place. Let them be responsible for the consequences. The women...well, I'm sure most of them hardly had a choice in the matter."

I felt myself flushing once again, my heart fluttering as I spoke. I wondered how she made such a joke so easily. Even though I spoke softly, I was still very much worried that someone might overhear what I had to say and judge me harshly for it.

"I suppose I can see your point there. But still. I am very fond of my eardrums, thank you very much." She looked at me sideways, giving me a sly little grin as she led me down the halls, past the areas of the castle that I knew to be familiar. "You seem to have some semblance of manners, so I will spare you from my rampage."

"You have no idea just how relieved I am to hear that."

We entered a spare bedroom, lavishly decorated in warm tones of peach and gold. The maid (whose name I had yet to learn) indicated for me to take a seat at the foot of the bed while she opened a polished honey oak wardrobe to try and find a suitable dress for the competition. I decided that now was a good time as any to ask.

"Isabel," she answered, sounding surprised as she rifled through gowns of muslin and silk. "Although I must confess I am a little lost on why a noblewoman such as yourself would bother with the help."

I was not blind to the ironic way that she spoke, and I will admit that it did make me a little sad. Such was the reality of our social classes. "That way I can properly thank you." I stood from my spot so that I could curtsy her way. "So thank you, Isabel. Your help is very much appreciated."

Although Isabel's back was turned to me, I heard the smile in her voice. "You're very welcome…"

The way that her voice trailed off indicated that it was my turn to give her a name. "Violette. Violette Renaud, though my first name can be a bit of a mouthful at times. Close friends often call me 'Vi'."

Isabel had made her selection of a few dresses and turned to me, holding one up to my chest. "Renaud?"

"Err, yes." I glanced down at her current choice: shimmering emerald silk with a silver embroidered butterfly motif. Pretty, but the waist looked far too small for my taste. "The name might sound familiar. My father was the King's former advisor, now he often comes here to oversee meetings with the other bureaucrats. I'm sure that you have run into him at some point."

"That I have." But she said no more on the subject, and instead showed me a dress of ivory muslin trimmed with sky blue ribbons, then a bold red one with a low cut neckline and an overlay of black damask roses.

"You're joking!" I said before I could stop myself.

"I am," Isabel responded, grinning her wicked little grin before she set that one down. "I know that you do not wish to stand out anymore than you already have, but I had to tease you. Why not this one instead?"

The dress was a short-sleeved chocolate brown silk polonaise thing, woven with a lighter brown and golden thread in opposing directions. Its lower skirt consisted of cream silk decorated with matching brown flowers, while the sleeves were trimmed with a comfortable looking cotton lace.

"Perfect."

Isabel then helped me out of the blue one that I had received this morning and made quick work of helping to loosen my corset a stitch or two; the wonderful thing about this brown dress was that it was not so tightly fitted to my body. I was allowed a little more room to breathe.

"You are a goddess among women," I told her when she had finished tying off the last ribbon.

Gazing at myself in the mirror now, my hair was had come out of its updo and was perhaps a little messier than when I had first entered the castle, and I was bare of all accessories since they were meant to go with my other dress, but I felt more like my true self than I had in hours. Had we been close friends, I might have hugged her right about now.

I did make sure to thank her profusely as we made our way back towards the ballroom though.

"Yes, yes. It's all a part of the job description, I suppose." She rolled her eyes, but the rosy hue that her pale cheeks had taken told another story. "I would wish you good luck in there but I know how you feel about the whole thing though...so I wish you utter and complete mediocrity for the rest of the competition."

"Oh, why can't all of the people I know be as wonderful as you are?" I grasped both of her hands in mine when we stopped in front of the doorway. "I do hope to see you again some time."

Whether or not Isabel had an answer for this, I never knew. It was then that the doors flew open rather suddenly, making the two of us jump in surprise.

Isabel quickly excused herself now, muttering something about needing to get so much laundry done. She'd disappeared before a group of men stepped out, all of them talking quietly amongst themselves.

At the front of the group was Sir Giles.

"So you hadn't gotten lost after all," he said, his expression perfectly neutral as ever. "We were just about to go looking for the two of you."

I tried not to make it too obvious when I peered over his shoulder. Curiously enough there was no orchestra playing in the background, nor did I see any couples dancing out on the floor. "I didn't miss too much, did I?"

"The competition is over, my Lady," he answered. "And Her Royal Highness has been selected."

"Has she?" I said. There was something the way that the chamberlain looked at me now that I did not like, the way that all of the men behind him that I did not like. The rational part of my mind told me that I was imagining things...after all, how could they select someone who was absent for a vast majority of the competition? And still, my voice wavered a little as I asked, "And who might that be?"

My only consolation was that I saw a similar look of reluctance as Sir Giles procured a red silk pillow from seemingly out of nowhere. Atop the pillow sat a delicate silver tiara encrusted with a thousand tiny diamonds. My feet seemed to be rooted firm to the ground, no matter how badly I wanted to run from this scene.

 _How on earth…?_

And yet, that beautiful tiara made its way atop my head.

"Our new crown princess," said Giles, kneeling himself before me, "is you."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The moment that we had all been waiting for! I thank those of you who have been patiently waiting for this chapter. I wanted to get it out last week but I am a caretaker of my niece and nephew, and school is wrapping up for the two of them. Pair that off with the fact that I am still sick and...well, there we go!

Violette is still a bit downcast, isn't she? She will cheer up soon. Not to worry, though her father seems to do a good job at keeping her down. And where on Earth is her brother? Thankfully she's met Nico and Leo, both of whom were very helpful to her in this chapter. But Giles doesn't seem too impressed. And who is this Isabel girl anyway? And what about a possible prince consort? Anyone see the hint here?

Read and review! Constructive criticism is welcome but harsh flames will be deleted. Thank you so much for reading!


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:** At First Glance

* * *

The brat was missing.

 _Again._

Ordinarily such a fact would hardly merit any notice, as Nico frequently took to disappearing and reappearing from Stein castle as he pleased. Although, as Nico's commanding officer, Albert had to frown upon such behavior, he also welcomed the peace that typically followed Nico's absence. Albert was still reeling from the younger man's latest prank (thumb tacks, really?) and what he had been praying for was three days to recover.

Three blissful, quiet days with no mischief, no pranks, and certainly no annoying nicknames that were always made up on a whim.

Then three days turned into five and, well, Albert certainly raised an eyebrow at that, but sometimes Nico liked to extend his little 'vacations'. King Byron usually told him to let Nico have his time, so Albert held his tongue. For now.

"I hope that he likes being off duty, because that is exactly what he is going to be when he returns!" he spat out in the privacy of the King's study when five days became nine, because, honestly, Nico had never been this irresponsible before.

Not that he was worried—certainly not, not for the boy's personal safety anyhow; Nico knew how to defend himself properly and there had been very little activity from the rebel groups in the eastern region as of late. If anything he was irritated and, honestly, contacting that insufferable information dealer was the only logical step at this point. Inquiries at Nico's usual haunts were a dead end at this point and the answers he received only left Albert wringing his hands in frustration.

So where in God's name was he?

"Ya know, if you keep sighing like that, the worry lines are going to wear deep on your face. And since you've got that whole 'uptight, blind as a bat' thing going on, wrinkles are the last thing you need."

It took a tremendous amount of effort not to sigh, as that would surely make the smirk on Sid's overly smug face all the worse to deal with. Reaching out to him and admitting that he needed help was proving to be more trouble than it was worth.

"Whether or not I wrinkle is hardly a matter of your concern, _Monsieur Arnault_." He frowned as he peered at the other man beneath his spectacles, his crisp voice enunciating every syllable of his title. "Although if you must know, that little hellion is responsible for every silver hair that I find on my head."

Sid, who was used to Albert's cool civility when someone even dared to joke in his presence, merely laughed. "All I'm saying is this." He leaned back in the seat of his chair, stretching his legs out so that his scuffed up boots hit the surface of an otherwise polished desk. "The ladies are terrified enough of you as it is. You're not doing yourself any favors."

Predictably, Albert's frown only deepened at this.

"Unless it's not the ladies that you're trying to impress." Sid's eyes took on a wicked glint now. There was something hauntingly familiar about this look. "I mean, that would explain a lot. There's nothing to be ashamed of—"

"That is quite enough!" Although he knew better than to rise to the bait, Albert's nerves were already worn thin at this point. Cheap jokes such as this were hardly tolerable even when he was in the best of moods, and they were certainly not welcome in his office. "Now, unless you have somehow managed to procure some information that is actually relevant to Nico's whereabouts, I suggest you see yourself out now and do what you were paid to do."

A beat of silence passed between the two men.

For the next few moments, the only sound that came from Sid's side of the desk was the shuffling of papers that had been folded up on the inside of his worn leather overcoat. It was only now that Albert allowed himself to exhale that sigh he had been since long holding onto, pushing the frames of his glasses up as he massaged his now aching temples.

Perhaps he was a little more worried about the brat's well being than he was allowing himself to let on. True, Nico made a nuisance of himself more often than not and, yes, Albert was most frequently the target of his poking and prodding about, but that certainly did not mean that he _hated_ the young man.

There were a great number of words that Albert could use to describe Nico, describe the sort of relationship that he had with the brat, but "hate" would never come up. Not when it truly came down to the heart of the matter.

Nico had been a part of Albert's life since he was still a boy, barely reaching his adolescence. He still remembered the night that His Majesty, King Byron—Prince Byron back then—brought in a very small bundle on a cold and wet autumn's night. The bundle contained a toddler, though at first Albert remembered thinking him much younger when he saw him; Nico was so small back then, malnourished and barely coherent in his speech.

Not for the first time, Albert wondered whether he was too harsh with the boy. The last words they had exchanged with one another…

"Alright, Captain Upright and Curmudgeonly. Here's the information ya wanted. Don't say I never got ya anythin'."

Before Albert can quite comprehend what is going on (other than silently correcting Sid on his title; he is a _Commander_ , not a Captain), that same thick pile of paper he had seen just moments before is suddenly being waved under his nose. Figuring that any remarks on observing proper manners will simply fall on deaf ears, Albert simply took the papers as they were, casting one quick glare at the informant before he took to reading the report.

The first half of the report was gossip, a good portion of it information that he and his other men extracted from their preliminary search. Albert skimmed through that bit; as desperate as he was to find Nico, he really did not care to read too much into the antics that he got up to at certain pubs. He still had flashback about the last time the boy decided to play hide and seek around the castle…

Going deeper in, however, proved far more interesting and useful information.

Apparently Nico had gone beyond the usual towns and cities, picking up supplies that would be needed for survival deep into the woods. Did he really drive him that far away?

Just as Albert was about to offer Sid a few extra gold coins to go back into those woods, to try and talk some sense into the boy, he turned the last page of the report. "...Wysteria?" The shock impacted him so greatly that he nearly shouted the name out, making him nearly jump out of his own skin.

Sid, an unreadable expression on his face now, merely nodded. "Just started workin' at the palace on the serving staff about a month ago. Says that he wants to improve his tea makin' skills or somethin'."

For just a moment Albert is caught up with how typical of an answer this is to Nico before he comprehends the first part of Sid's statement. "And what force on Earth persuaded him that abandoning his duties as a knight in order to act as a serving boy was a wise course of action?" He, of course, knew the true answer to this question. It was only his guilty conscience that caused him to act so short. "How much will it persuade you to have a discussion with him?"

When the question earned no response in particular, Albert extracted a small, silver key that was hidden in the breast pocket of his heavy black coat and turned unlocked the top drawer of his desk. He plucked out a small but weighty bag of coins, then pushed them towards the information dealer. "He will respond better to you than he will to me." And, after a moment, he added in a much, much softer voice, "Please."

Much to his surprise, Sid pushed the bag back towards him.

"Tempting as it is to accept the extra coin and buy myself a nice bottle of whiskey, the kind with the gold flakes, I just can't do it," he grunted. "This is somethin' that ya gotta do on your own."

"With all due respect, Lord Grandier—"

Sid cut him off by raising a single finger in the air, the corners of his mouth curved downward. "First things first: _Never_ call me by that name, not unless ya want me to get sick all over that nice, fancy rug ya got there." He raised another finger. "Second, I think that this Nico kid is goin' ta respond to ya a lot better if you go after him yourself. Really drives the point home, ya know?"

Albert shook his head ever so slightly, choosing this precise moment to take his glasses off and wipe away at an imaginary smudge. "You don't know what I said to him...Sid."

"No, I don't," Sid agreed, tipping forward in his chair. He rose to his feet now. "But what I do know is that whatever it is, it isn't as bad as you're makin' it out to be." This time when he reached into the lining of his coat, he pulled out a large map and began marking a path from Stein castle that crossed into those very woods that he had searched not too long ago and led to a direct path to the Wysterian palace. "If you start now, you'll be back within a week's time."

"Do you truly think that he will listen to me then?" Albert's hands stilled as he found himself suddenly unable to complete the task that he had created for himself, and he could feel his cheeks heating up from just how unsure he sounded.

Sid, who was halfway to the door, paused and threw another one of his customary smirks. "And they said that Steiners don't show their emotions." He chuckled lightly to himself at this. "Based off what I know of him, the kid looks up to ya. Just work that scowl off your face for about thirty seconds and that should do the trick."

"Thank you," Albert began, his head inclined slightly, but it turned out that Sid was not quite done yet.

"Before you set foot out of town though, I recommend that you relax: pet that bunny of yours, darn your socks, whatever it is that you overly constipated intellectuals like best. I, myself, prefer gettin' rip-roaring drunk and spendin' the night with a pretty lady, but something tells me that you've never—"

Whatever it was that Albert never had happen to himself, he never quite found out, as he now got up from his previous spot on the other side of the desk, and (none too gently) escorted Sid fully out of his office.

Well, that was...incredibly vexing. Even now, Albert could hear the loud, raucous laughter that Sid let out when he made a particularly vulgar statement, ringing in his ears.

Although he had to endure a good deal more of the torment than usual, today's visit definitely proved to be valuable both in regards to information and personal advice.

A wry smile crossed Albert's lips at the thought. Never in his life did he think that he would actually be acting upon advice from Sid, one of the few people who somehow possessed the rare ability to amuse and exasperate him, several times in the same day. Then again, Sid did often possess a certain wisdom that was far beyond his years, although the man was loathe to admit it. The man had a reputation for being 'tall, dark, and wickedly handsome' (his own words) and displaying any sort of smarts that did not have to do with poker or ciphering added nothing to that image.

Even so, over the time that Albert had known Sid, he had witnessed him deliver such advice that rendered the other person speechless. Today just so happened to be the first time that he had been on the receiving end of said advice.

Both empowered and thoroughly humbled, Albert crossed back to the other side of his office where the map that Sid left behind still lay flat on top of his desk. He almost immediately began to mentally calculate just how long making such an excursion would take and what supplies were needed.

With any given luck, he would locate Nico in three days' time, clear away any misunderstandings, and return to Stein castle, irritated but back to that routine that he knew so well.

* * *

With King Byron's consent and knowledge of the expedition, the course was set for the following week: three days' worth of traversing the densely forested landscape on horseback, with only the bare essentials. Disguised as a commoner, weapons concealed in strategic places, of course, as it certainly would not do to go about his travels bearing the marks of a knight of Stein.

And though it pained him to leave his regular duties at home behind, the change in pace was rather...nice. How long had it been since Albert had spent his days in the wilderness, sleeping under the light of the stars and rising with the sun? Yes, the terrain could be rough at times and he very much ran the risk of running across vagrants, but the peace that was to be found in these parts was incomparable.

With no troops to command at the barracks, no exasperating information dealers or errant knights to discipline (yet), there were no expectations to adhere to. For the time being, he simply could just...be.

This newfound quiet, however, proved to be a double-edged sword as his journey wore on.

He had long since forgotten why he had developed and stuck to such a rigid routine: the incessant chattering of his mind. Although Albert considered himself an introvert by nature and, in fact, thrived in solitude, he found that in this case, that quiet was not beneficial at all.

When he was not stocking up on supplies, or attending to his steed, Wesley, Albert began to imagine the worst-case type of scenarios that Nico might have met, no matter how often he tried to rationalize with those thoughts. After all, with nothing but long stretches of land ahead of him, it provided him with hours upon hours of reflection. By the time that he was able to find a soft bit of moss and retire for the night, his final thoughts before drifting off to sleep were the last words he had spoken to the younger man.

Yes, he really was worried about the brat.

It was midway through day three that the trees began to thin out, which was a huge relief. If he was going by his map correctly, then he was already in the Muscari region.

If he hurried his pace, he would be able to reach the palace before nightfall.

With that thought in mind, Albert tightened the reigns on Wesley, hoping that he would shift his trot into more of a gallop but the horse dug his heels in on the command. Frowning a little, he tried tugging again only to achieve the same result.

"Really now," he uttered, patting the top of his steed's head in frustration, "at a time like this?"

Almost as though understanding what he said, Wesley turned his head in the opposite direction where they were headed. Albert sighed at this. He really had no choice in the matter now, did he?

"But once we have finished whatever it is that you want us to do, you follow my directions," said Albert in his most authoritative voice. "Do you hear me?"

Wesley merely chortled in response. Of course he heard him, the question now was whether he would take Albert's words to heart.

Their destination only took a few moments to reach; the thinning out of the trees turned into a clearing, which branched off into a rather large and tranquil lake that shimmered aquamarine in the high morning sun. Now he understood.

"I thought that you had enough to drink from that stream we came across before we took off," said Albert as he dismounted from Wesley's back. "I'm sorry if I rushed you."

No sooner than the apology had left his lips did Wesley nudge him towards the lake with his nose. Maybe it had something to do with his isolation from other people for the past several days, but there was something in the way that Wesley whinnied when he did not move that Albert found rather irksome.

"Really now?" he huffed, casting a disparaging glance towards the lake. "Has palace life made you so soft that if I go a few days without washing up, you find _my_ smell offensive?"

As though already bored with this conversation, Wesley elected to answer him by walking off to another spot near the water's edge where a nice patch of yellow flowers grew in abundance. They were not going to move another inch until the horse got what he wanted.

With yet another sigh, Albert brandished off his glasses, working to remove his coat and tie after, the irony of this situation not lost on him at all.

So the horse led him to water…

* * *

Nearly an hour after, Albert had to admit that however strange the circumstance that led him there, washing off several layers' worth of dirt and grime did wonders for his psyche. He even managed to work through some of the apology that he wished to deliver to Nico when he saw him in person—or improve upon it at the very least. Somehow he did not think that Nico would respond too well to his usual nickname. Or maybe he was projecting too much of himself into Nico's shoes again…

Before he got too bogged down by yet another internal debate, the sound of Wesley's whinnying, accompanied by an unfamiliar tinkle of laughter caught his attention.

Had he been so caught up with his own thoughts that he'd somehow failed to realize another person (or persons?) joined him? Frowning at his own inattentiveness, Albert scrambled for his glasses for a few minutes before pulling on a spare pair of trousers that he had tucked away, as well as his boots.

As he went to go investigate the source of the noise, he wished that he'd thought to put on a little more. A shirt at the very least!

For, as he drew nearer, he realized that it was a lady who had unintentionally joined him, and one of great status and wealth if the make of her green riding habit was anything to go by. And she was stroking Wesley's great ebony muzzle as though she had known the creature for a good number of years, muttering to him in that unintelligible babble that women typically reserved for their babies or an overly-pampered lap dog. As far as Albert could tell, Wesley, the great traitor, had his eyes closed, looking as though he were having the time of his life!

Not if he could help it.

Taking another step closer behind the lady, Albert crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat so loudly that she tensed for a moment, before letting out a small exclamation of surprise.

"I wasn't trying to run away!"

Albert barely stepped out of the way in time before she spun around, nearly smacking his glasses off of his face with a thick rope of long, braided hair. Indeed, for a moment, that was the first thing about this lady's appearance that registered in his mind: even beneath her netted top hat, her multitude of dark curls formed around her head like a fluffy cloud on a fine summer's day.

"...I'm sure that you weren't," said Albert rather dryly, adjusting his glasses so that they did not slide off the bridge of his nose. "Do you make it a habit of approaching people's horses and petting them, even when their owners are not around to give you permission to do so?"

Her hazel eyes, a lovely almond shape, flashed with an alarming number of emotions all at once, sheepishness at the forefront. "Hopefully not as often as you walk around in public without a shirt on. I'm sure that not even the most free-spirited of people are accustomed to waltz around half naked." She dropped her gaze from him now, color rising in her dark cheeks.

Albert, who had been barely holding onto even a modicum of composure, halted at her words, and as though her embarrassment were contagious, he too felt heat trickle from the tips of his ears to his forehead. "—well, I—certainly would never—" No matter how he explained things, this never would look good, would it? "I apologize if my appearance startled you. I thought that I was the only one here."

Though her head was still turned, Albert inclined his head as he offered the most sincere apology that he could muster at the moment. This unnamed lady tensed yet again at his words, seemed to visibly swallow down on something, and then, after seemingly much deliberation on her part, turned her head enough so that she could curtsy towards him.

"Some of the blame must befall upon me, Sir," she said, sounding for all the world that she wished dearly to escape this moment. "I had managed to convince my companions to accompany me on the horseback trails today, and I got a bit carried away and raced far ahead of them. They're probably looking for me now but...I can only stay cooped up for so long, you see." She lifted her head, not to look at him but to nod towards a golden mare, who was trotting along a different section of the lake. "While I let her do her bit of exploring, I came across your steed and couldn't help myself…I do apologize most profusely though. I should have checked to see if his owner was around."

Despite the fact that he was still recovering from one of several notes in a series of great humiliations, Albert could not help softening his expression just a little at the woman. It was the knight in him at work, perhaps. "We could go all day, I think, trying to decide who is more at fault. With that being said, I think that I'm—ah—rather grateful that you did not check, given our circumstances." He flushed again and crossed his arms over his chest. "However, if you do feel compelled to apologize, you may do so in the form of telling me whether I'm headed the right way—"

Before he could finish his question, Albert was cut off by a series of shouts, both male and female, calling out what was unmistakably the lady's name. At the second 'Violette!', she flashed him yet another apologetic smile (still avoiding his eye), and said, "I really am sorry, but I must be off. If I don't hurry off soon, I'm sure to be late for my lessons and then Giles might murder me then and there. Not that you know who Giles is but...if you are looking to get to town, take the trails and then head north for five miles once the trees thin out completely. If you are looking to get to the castle, take that same route and it will be in the very heart of town."

She said this all rather fast, and it took Albert a moment to comprehend all of this. "Right." He adjusted his glasses again. "Thank you again, Miss…"

"Renaud," she finished, "perhaps we will see each other another time. I hope that you find what you are looking for."

She curtsied to him once more, then scurried off, joining two other people who were atop horses of their own: a bespectacled blonde woman, and an auburn-haired man, who, even from this distance, looked distinctly familiar. Albert watched as this Mademoiselle Renaud mounted onto her horse with ease, a spectacular feat considering the bustle in her dress. As though sensing that someone was watching the three of them, the man turned to look in Albert's direction, then said something to the two ladies, who after a moment's hesitation, turned and disappeared back into the forest.

"Really Albert," said an all too cheerful voice, "I know that the Princess is cute and all, but walking around shirtless is a bit bold, don't you think? Especially for you."

Albert was caught between exhaling a sigh of relief that the person speaking actually was Nico, riding high on top of a grey and white dappled horse, and scowling at his words. He chose to settle for something in between. "I hardly know what you are talking about. Perhaps _you_ would derive enjoyment out of meeting a lady in such a way, but the both of us were properly embarrassed."

"Hm, no, I can't say that if I would enjoy meeting someone like that." Nico grinned, cheeky as the last time he saw him. "Although I did have a lot of fun when I first met her. She really does have a funny little scream!"

Unsure of how to respond to that, Albert reverted back to the scowl that was customary when dealing with Nico. "Why you little-you mentioned that she was the Princess? That is no way to treat the person that you serve, and you know it."

Nico simply laughed in response to this. "Ah, you never change! You know, I almost missed hearing you grouse at me for every little thing. If you need to know, I had the Princess' permission to pour hot tea on her skirts. I played the part of the valiant knight quite well, if I do say so myself." Not that she was to know, that went without saying. After a moment of silence, Nico shifted slightly in his seat and the expression on his face sobered a little. "So why are you here?"

'I should ask you the same question' were almost the words that formed on Albert's lips but he stopped himself just in time. He'd come to apologize after all, not make matters worse. So, he let out a small cough, forcing himself to meet the younger man's gaze rather than allow it to skitter away than he might under normal circumstances. "It has been a little over two weeks since you have shown your face around the castle. And when that informant told me where you had taken off to...I had to go see that you weren't setting us up for a war that neither one of us were prepared for."

Well, he had almost succeeded.

"That, and you missed me, didn't you?" Nico's voice picked up just a little bit.

"Regardless...if anything I said pushed you to leave Stein castle and prompt you to work on such a dangerous mission, I apologize." He frowned a little. "You are every bit as dedicated to King Byron as I am. And…if you would like, I can help you collect your things and we can return to him without any further incident. If that is your wish, of course."

Silence passed between the two of them, and for the next few moments the only sounds that could be heard was the whistling of the wind and the rushing of the water behind him. Before Albert could contemplate that horrible idea that, perhaps, his apology came too little, too late, Nico spoke once more, a bit more guarded than before.

"You're right. I am just as dedicated to King Byron. I just show that dedication in a different way than you might." Albert bowed his head slightly at that. A similar thought had passed through his mind on his journey here. "Which is why I won't be returning with you. Not yet anyway. I...do you remember what King Byron said, about possibly opening up to a relationship with Wysteria?"

"I do," Albert replied.

"I wanted to see what the people of this country were like with my own eyes, see if their attitudes towards Stein had changed and whether it was worth pursuing more than just a shaky treaty." Nico smiled a little. "The Princess is a good person, and she will continue to be one if she chooses her inner circle correctly. I see a good deal of manipulation working underway in the castle, but it is early enough to intervene. For their sake and our sake, I think it would be beneficial for you and King Byron to show up at her coronation ceremony."

He kept quiet as Nico spoke, nodding only after to show that he was taking his opinion seriously. "Have the invitations been sent yet?"

"Yes. The ceremony should take place two weeks from now." Nico picked up the reigns on his horse once more, shifting him towards the forest now. "Oh, and Albert?"

"Yes?" For he, too, had turned on his heel, ready to collect the rest of his clothes and head back towards his own home now that he had all of the relevant information needed to report back to His Majesty.

"You might want to work on your smile in the meantime. I think that she might be your type. She's as awkward as you are."

With that, Nico tugged firmly on his horse's reins, galloping deep into a thicket of trees before Albert even had the chance to flush at the suggestion.

His type, indeed.

Even if she _was_ his 'type', whatever that meant, the only person Albert had to worry himself about now was His Majesty, and how they would prepare for the upcoming coronation ceremony. King Byron would certainly be glad to hear that Nico was safe and sound, especially considering that the report came from Albert himself.

And for Albert, well, though he did not agree on the boy's tactics of procuring information, he was glad that Nico did not hate him at least. These next coming weeks would prove to be very interesting...

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Another long awaited moment! Or, at least, it was by me. Albert's introduction and his first meeting with Vi. In a very fan service-y type of way. I had some ideas planned out even before the release of Albert's route, which might contradict some of the information that we know now. I'm sticking to some of my original ideas for the sake of the story, but I will incorporate some of the elements of his route into my story. Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long to come!

For now though, read, review, and I will go brace myself for his Sugar Ending.

Thank you!


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